Fire Is More Than Just Flames
by WordsAblaze
Summary: You're not meant to fight fire with fire but that doesn't stop Phil from fighting Dan's cruel, numbing fire with the fire of his love and reminding him that the darkness will fade and he'll be okay... A Phan oneshot, Enjoy!


_This was inspired by the latest chapter of 'beautifully broken' by JenCollins (and sort of written for her too :3 *hugs*)_

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 **Fire Is More Than Just Flames**

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Dan's username might argue otherwise but he certainly feels like he's on fire.

Not a burning fire, not a painful fire, not a raging fire, but a cold, numbing fire.

He feels like someone has frozen liquefied fire and thrown it into his bloodstream. Even his skin feels restless, like it wants to jump away and leave him behind, as if he's not worth sticking to anymore.

The lights are off in his room but he doesn't have the motivation to get up and switch them on because his bones feel like metal inside of him, pulling him down, stopping him from functioning like a normal human being. The curtains are open and he hates that because it means he can see the birds carelessly flying past and the sun shining as if nothing is wrong in the world. The door to his room is firmly closed but he doesn't see the point in opening it because he doesn't feel isolated, he just feels like he's alone in his misery and there's nothing being aware of all the space he has can do to help him.

Breathing is exhausting as he closes his eyes and rocks back and forth, wanting nothing more than to pretend everything is fine and dandy again. The sobs that escape him are quiet, gentle, so much more controlled than he feels. Tears slip over his skin like fleeting touches from a friend who doesn't want to understand, cold and useless and painful.

And then there's a tentative knock on his door.

"Dan?"

Phil.

Dan just sobs a little harder, hating that he's becoming a burden and creating a mess out of their previously comfortable silence. He can't form sentences but, if he could, he'd tell Phil to leave, to run while he still has the freedom to, to avoid getting stuck with his illogical emptiness.

"Dan? Dan, what's wrong? Can I come in?"

He doesn't know what's wrong because nothing is wrong and that's all it is, just a massive nothing where his heart should be, giving out darkness and tears instead of emotions and smiles. He's lost in the thoughts of his nothing when the door slowly opens and moves forward, squeaking a little since neither of them had gotten round to fixing it.

"Dan?" Phil asks, his voice no more than a whisper as he looks around. It doesn't take long for his gaze to settle on Dan, curled up on the bed, his head falling onto his knees as he tries to fold into himself, make himself smaller, disappear from existence entirely.

There's a moment where nothing happens, followed by a shuffling and the sound of something being opened, something being switched on, something being started up. Dan, even though he doesn't look up, lets his teary eyes open when he hears the music start to play. It's quiet and barely there but it's there, all the same, filling up some of the accusing stillness in the air around him.

"Dan, can I come near you?"

Despite feeling weighed down, he gives the smallest nod, one that probably wouldn't be recognisable to anyone but Phil. As he always does, Phil understands and eases himself onto the bed next to Dan, who breathes in the faint scent of cereal like it's morphine.

"Can I touch you?"

Dan knows what Phil is doing, he knows Phil is asking him for permission every step of the way to try and bring him back to where he really is, to try and provide a gateway through which Dan can find himself again. But it's more than that. Whether or not he knows it, Phil asking questions is giving Dan a sense of control, making him feel less contingent and more valued, more in charge of his situation. He uses this dim feeling of importance to persuade his head to nod once more.

Instantly, Phil's arm is around his shoulders and he can feel a soft hand gently brushing through his hair. He can feel Phil's knees pressing into his side and he can feel the warmth of another person near him. Phil's hand gently traces small circles into his shoulder, the gesture making Dan shiver. He can feel.

It's not a magical, tingling sensation or an explosive collision of skin but it's something he can feel and that's more than enough.

He's still disjointedly sobbing, his tears practically non-existent as he struggles to stabilise his breathing, but he gradually uncurls his stiff limbs, leaning into the comforting fire of Phil's warmth next to him. He lets his head fall onto Phil's chest, ignoring the voice in his head that wants him to believe he doesn't deserve human contact.

Phil's heartbeat has never sounded so perfect. He's not a doctor so he doesn't know what a medically perfect heartbeat is meant to sound like but, to him, there's nothing more soothing and comforting than the rhythm of Phil's heart. It's a sound that acts like a road for him, leading nowhere and everywhere all at once, just what he needs to latch onto the world.

The arms that wrap around him are cautious but firm and Dan finds himself smiling at the way he's cocooned in an embrace of care. It's always nice to know there's someone who wants to wipe your tears away, someone who wants to make sure you know you're appreciated, someone who loves you, and Dan has never known it more clearly than now.

"You're perfect," Phil whispers into his hair.

Dan's next sob dies before it can reach his lips, destroyed by the reassurance that he's allowed to be empty, he doesn't have to be okay all the time.

"I love you."

At first, he doesn't believe it. He wonders how anyone can love someone as messy as him, someone who can fall apart within the blink of an eye, but then he remembers this is Phil. The same Phil who'd accepted his unorthodox onomatopoeia, his ever-changing obsessions, and his intermittent self-hatred. This is someone who'd known about his dark thoughts before knowing his favourite colour, someone who doesn't seem to mind whatever the world throws at them as long as they can face it side by side.

"You're going to feel okay," Phil tells him, his voice gentle and full of compassion.

Dan doesn't say anything but he lets his arms wrap around Phil in return, the fact that he can touch, that he can hold onto someone acting as a sedative to the whirling numbness in his mind. Phil shifts so the two of them are even closer together again, the space between them dying as Dan clings to him, his chin wobbling and his frame shaking.

The music continues to play in the background, drifting around the two of them as a reminder that happiness is subjective and doesn't have to be shared by anyone else for it to be valid.

Dan opens his eyes and catches sight of the birds flying outside before his eyes settle on Phil's shoulder. The birds might feel happy when they're soaring through the air but Dan is content with staying where he is, with being stuck on the earth, because he has the little things to enjoy, the hundreds of moment he can share with Phil that birds will never experience because they're too busy relishing in their freedom.

"You're going to be okay," Phil repeats, louder this time, or maybe that's just Dan now letting himself hear the words he so deeply desires to agree with and believe.

Dan pulls back only enough to meet Phil's eyes, the eyes full of hope and love and a promise that things can get better, things will get better, and he finds himself drowning in the way those familiar colours are telling him not to give up.

He's not sure his head is clear but his heart can see past his doubt, latching onto the fire of affection he can practically sense spilling from Phil. This time, the fire that Dan feels fighting its way through him is a pleasant one, one that lets him breathe a little better and one that reminds him he's okay, even if he's not.

His voice is quiet and croaky when he says, "Thank you," but Phil doesn't seem to mind, beaming at him like he's just discovered a new planet and is the most important person in the universe.

"Oh, Dan…" Phil just closes the tiny gap between them again, burying his head in Dan's shoulder. "I love you."

Suddenly, just like that, Dan can smile.

Where he'd felt like he would drown in his own emptiness only a few seconds ago, he now feels like he's capable of working with himself, with the darker, more depressing parts of himself that he can't detach and destroy.

He burning in a fire but he's okay with that because he's burning in the fire of Phil's love, one that needs no gasoline to maintain but, rather, a little bit of hope and faith. He's burning but he's not getting burnt because he's a part of the fire, the fire wouldn't exist without him, and he can use the fire to push back the cold hopelessness in his soul that wants to swallow him whole and hide the light so he just crumbles and falls apart.

He's not going to fall apart though, he's going to renovate his heart and forge himself a new happiness, the happiness he deserves, the happiness everyone deserves.

Whoever said fire can't fight fire had clearly never known that fire is more than just flames.

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 **So, this is my 50th published fanfic... (yes it says 51 but one story was basically an idea for an au so I'm not counting it as an official fic) and I think it's only fitting that it's a phanfic since my first one was a phanfic too... what a nice way to start June:)**

 **PS. Happy Pride Month! Be proud of being you! * throws confetti ***

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 _Thanks for reading! Please review? Like it? Spot a mistake? Requests for anything?_


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